Mustache
by RazzyPop
Summary: I couldn't even win her over with the mustache." Haru discovers that he can find 'comfort' in the oddest of ways. Rated M for LEMONNNNSSS. NOT Harutara!


Sunlight poured through the small window of Haru's home, illuminating the room with warm light. Although the room only had a single bed, a small desk, and a mirror that hung above it on the wall, the room itself had a homey feeling to it. It was quiet throughout his small home- his mother was currently out in the market while his father was gone to help rebuild nearby Earth Kingdom villages. The warmth of the light spread across Haru's lying form on the bed, acting as a sort of make-shift blanket. His eyes kept their stare on the muddy brown ceiling.

His home was a bit more decorated than it had been before the war was over, before he met Aang. There had been no Fire Nation soldiers robbing his town of their money with outrageous taxes for quite a while, especially after the end of the hundred-year war that had ended only a year ago. Haru grimaced, his jade-colored eyes narrowing as he remembered. His fist clenched and uncleched as he was reminded of the Fire Nation cruelty, of the smell of smoke and ashes. He remembered fighting for his life, recalling the sickening crack of bones and the deafening screams of men being pelted with boulders and crushed between stone walls. The blood spurting out of them as they were crushed. Their eyes nearly bulging out of their eye sockets as they realized their iminent fate milliseconds before they were killed. Haru raised his hands above his head to examine them, his eyes tracing over the cracks and calluses. These hands had slaughtered those Firebenders.

No, those soldiers.

No, those _people._

Haru knew it was for the greater good, and if he had not finished them off they would have gladly done him in. But there was still that part inside of him that told him that it shouldn't have been necessary. That there had to have been another way than killing them. He hated the war; He hated what it did to the Earth Kingdom, to his family, to _him_ personally.

Haru shook his head, his hands dropping to cover his face as he tried to block the bad memories out of his mind, closing his eyes tightly. He replaced them with the benefits of the war. How it made him stronger, and how it made him friends. His arms slowly slumped to his sides, a small smile formed on his face as he remembered exploring the Western Air Temple and the enthralling history it had. Hours of travelling from room to room with Teo and the Duke, gaping in awe and admiration at the Temple's magnificence. Haru remembered sitting around a fire with everyone as they ate hot meals and shared stories, laughing heartily at Sokka's...well, Sokka-ness(there was no other word for it, really, in Haru's mind). He remembered a time even farther, when he first met the Avatar, as well as Sokka and Katara.

His heart clenched. _Katara_. His eyes opened widely, a pang of grief and longing shot through him like lightning. Katara. He knew that it was futile to begin with. He knew that she was too good for him, that she wouldn't look his way. That she would never return his feelings he had for her. But he still pursued. Or at least, he was going to.

He stepped off of the boat to meet for the Day of Black Sun, and the first person he saw was Katara. He saw her as even more stunning than she was with her hair down. They hugged, and he felt a tiny spark of hope. A small glimmer of a chance with her.

But the meeting in itself had proved him wrong. He saw the looks the Avatar was giving Katara. And worse, how she _returned_ them. Even at the Western Air Temple, he knew. He could see it; the electricity, the love between them. And it broke him. How could you compete with the Avatar, anyway?

Haru grunted, deciding to push himself up on his bed. He had once again gotten lost in the past, reminiscing in memories that stung. Every nice, good memory had two horrible ones. One night of blissful, peaceful sleep equaled a week of haunting nightmares. Every laugh came with tears, and all the happiness he felt he paid twicefold with anguish and sorrow. This is what the war had done to him. This was what he had become.

Haru swung his legs over and stood from his bed, taking two steps so to stand in front of his desk and his mirror. He studied his reflection carefully, and sooner than he knew it his eyes had landed on his mustache. They weren't hard to notice, really. He frowned. _I couldn't even win her over with the mustache, _ he thought to himself, leaning in to examine the hair above his upper lip. He pressed one of his hands on the tabletop of the desk to steady himself. _Maybe I should just shave it all off. It doesn't look good, anyway._

He lifted a hand to his face, letting one of his fingers trace the hair. He had never taken the time to notice the texture of his mustache. It was...soft. He glided his fingertips across the lines of hair gently, and he started to feel a tingle coarsing through his body. Haru took a sharp intake of breath, his eyelids descending ever so slightly as he stroke the mustache. He couldn't understand the sensation it gave him. It was more than comforting. It was almost...a _need_.

He let out a shaky breath and lifting one of his legs to rest it on the desk so that he was half-kneeling and half standing, so he could lean in even closer to the mirror. His callused fingers played against the hair, taking a few individual stands and twisting them gently. His closed his eyes and pushed himself up so that he was sitting on his knees with his legs spread, his forehead now resting against the mirror. His breathing became quicker, more ragged as his played with his mustache, unaware of his other roaming hand. It caressed his left thigh, running up down down slowly. Haru twisted the strands of mustache hair a little rougher as he reached his inner thigh, the hand advancing towards the growing lump in his pants. It hastily dug into the hem of his trousers, and Haru realized what he was doing when he felt his long shaft hardening under the soft touch of his hand. He gasped, unable to comprehend the sensation running through his body with the very brush of his fingertips along his increasing erection.

Haru sat there for what seemed like minutes, but could not have been more than seconds. He sounded almost out of breath as he fingered his mustache, gritting his teeth. He then took his erect member firmly in his grasp. With a sharp inhale and a flick of the hair above his upper lip, he started moving his hand up and down. Slowly, at first, and then gradually gaining speed. He groaned in satisfaction, rubbing his mustache fiercly as his hand slid up and down his long shaft. Haru pressed his head against the cool mirror, huffing. He then tilted his head back, his hand sliding even faster. He grunted, his lips parted slightly. He seemed to gain speed with each stroke, as was he geeting more aggressive.

It all happened so fast. He felt his hand pulling, going faster and faster up and down his erect member. He felt a built-up tension welling up inside his very being. He clenched his jaw, furrowing his eyebrows, feeling ready to explode.

And he did.

His seed spewed and drizzled out of his shaft. He gave an audible gasp at the sudden release. Haru suddenly felt...at peace. As if all of his stress and bottled-up emotions had left his body as well. Haru had no worries, no regrets, no bad thoughts that seeped into his mind. He suddenly slumped forward, once again letting his head rest agains the cool glass of the mirror. He pulled his hand out of his pants, wiping them off on the pant sleeve. His other hand plopped carelessly to his lap. For a while he sat there, regaining his compsure, catching his breath. Time passed, and he sat himself straight up and checked his reflection. His mustache hair went all kinds of directions. He thought it oddly funny. Haru gently smoothed them out so that they were all align once more. He gave the reflection in front of him a small smile of relief and contentment.

_Maybe I won't shave it just yet._

A/N: Wow, uhh...well, how's THAT for my first lemon-filled story? Haru lustin' after his stash...anyway, review if you like.

Disclaimer: Don't own it.


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